


Crowded

by TheMouthKing



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: 30 years of build up, Bottom!Link, Dirty Talk, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, In Public, M/M, NYC, Slut Mode Link engaged, Sub!Link, ToM setting, Top!Rhett, but not yet, kink to come, mentions of harder kink, probably dom!Rhett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 15:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMouthKing/pseuds/TheMouthKing
Summary: In NYC, the boys get worked up on the way to a museum they didn't tell us about on instagram, for very good reasons. It is a family friendly show*, after all.*yeah right





	Crowded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisiscyrene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiscyrene/gifts).



> So I went to NYC with @killthenaughtyboy (Tumblr)/thisiscyrene (ao3) and we went to a few museums and this happened. I'm blameless.

It’s a crowded car, but Link was close enough to the doors that he slipped in and got a seat before the rest filled up around him. By the time Rhett made his way in, there wasn’t a space for him to sit even a distance away, so he grabbed hold of the horizontal bar over Link’s head and stood toe to toe with him as people kept pouring in behind him. Link asks Rhett if he’d like to sit instead, hoping he’ll take that offer, hoping that despite the fact that his feet are so tired he won’t have to sit here for the duration of the ride staring ahead into Rhett’s crotch. Rhett says no, says that the ride’s short anyway, and it’s not worth taking off his backpack. He sways a little as people jostle around behind him, moving towards the bars and making room for incoming passengers.

That’s fine, Link will just look away. He’ll look anywhere but straight ahead. He looks up at Rhett, watches him push the sleeves of his cactus sweater up his forearms and shuffle a little closer as people fill into the car, forced to stand closer to Link by the time the doors to the 3 train close in preparation for the short trip downtown.

Rhett shifts his stance when the train starts to move, spreading his legs a little wider so he won’t fall when the car moves unexpectedly. He ends up straddling Link’s feet, his long legs brushing up against Link’s knees as he sways with the movement of the car. Rhett loves New York and this is one of the reasons why, _the closeness_. There’s so many people you almost can’t help but get close sometimes, two people can’t avoid getting all up in each other’s space. It just comes with the territory, less room to spread out here than in LA. It’s also why he likes the subway wherever he goes, likes the excuse of public transit to stand too close. So what if he pushes the boundaries of close and too close here? If he does, it’s hardly noticeable, easy to blame on the people at his back also swaying with the motion of the car.

Their legs collide and Link’s attention, which he’s been steadfastly trying to direct at his phone in his lap to avoid having to look ahead at Rhett, snaps up the length of his body and catches sight of a sliver of bare skin where he doesn’t notice that the hem of that cactus sweater’s rucked up. His gaze lingers, drags down the dark wash denim, the wrinkles that guide his eye to the bulge between his legs.

Somehow in the middle of all those eyes, he convinces himself that no one’s looking at him. That there’s so much going on that there’s no way he’s the center of anyone’s attention, that the crowd gives him anonymity. Freedom to look. In that moment, he lets his eyes linger there between Rhett’s legs, watches the way he shifts his weight to keep his balance and how the denim shifts over his thighs. He’d been staring too long when he realized he'd licked his lips, and instantly his eyes flick up the length of Rhett’s torso to check and see if he’d been caught, only to find Rhett staring back at him, his expression stormy and unreadable.

That’s an outright lie. Link likes to think it’s unreadable because it’s easier to brush off that way. The look on Rhett’s face is absolutely ravenous, like if there weren’t an audience of dozens of people packed around them, he’d tear him apart. Or maybe the audience isn’t what’s deterring him, but the lack of space, or that the spark between them hasn’t caught. That Link hasn’t acknowledged it, hasn’t said _yes_.

Suddenly, the thought of stripping those dark jeans down Rhett’s thighs right here on the train and sucking him off while the heat of dozens of bodies remind them they aren’t alone is starting to consume him. He’d looked away fast, off into the sea of bodies to Rhett’s right, but he can see him out of his peripheral vision, still watching like he’s expecting his attention to drift back. But that’s not going to happen. Link has enough shame to stay his focus. For now, at least.

By the time they make it onto their connecting train, though, the tension has shifted into high gear. It had been a short walk to the next station, but it had been a little stilted, punctuated with silence that felt awkward because Rhett wasn’t saying anything about knowing what it was Link had been thinking, and Link wasn’t acknowledging how long he’d looked. Aside from stopping to check their phones to be sure they’re going the right way, there’s not conversation had between the two of them. The most communication they share in the brief time spent almost-surfacing from the subway in the Times Square hub is a moment where Link almost gets swept along in a group of fast-walking people and Rhett reaches out automatically, his hand cradling Link’s lower back and guiding him back in close, so he doesn’t lose him. Their hips bump together and they say nothing more than ‘this is us’ as they find their stairway up and then head back down.

The next train is more crowded. They’re lucky to have space to stand together and Link gravitates quickly to an overhead pole he can hang onto for balance when he feels Rhett bump up against him from behind. He glances back over his shoulder in time to see Rhett reach up for the same bar, his thumb brushing Link’s pinky as he grabs hold.

“When do we get off?” Rhett asks, close enough Link can practically feel his breath.

The way he phrases the question brings his brain to a grinding halt as he wonders just what he means. But, slowly, the gears in his mind re-engage and as he slides his hand into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his phone to check their route, his knuckles drag against Rhett’s body he’s _that close_ and it almost stutters him to a halt again. He remembers himself and pulls out his phone, unlocks it and scrolls down to look at the yellow R train leg of the trip.

 “28th… there’s two stops before it,” he holds up the screen so Rhett can see it over his shoulder, and then locks the screen before sliding it back into his ass pocket, once again unable to keep his hand from grazing Rhett’s body as he does so just by virtue of how close Rhett’s standing at his back. Maybe agreeing to go to this museum was a huge mistake.

It’s a short trip even though there’s stops along the way, and Link finds himself trying to think about anything else so that he doesn’t end up getting hard on the subway in the middle of the afternoon when there’s nothing he can do about it.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, a short trip doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be an uneventful one. As the train slows abruptly at the first stop, Link loses his balance and starts to fall forward, grappling to grab the bar above his head with his free hand when he feels a hand at his waist and glances down to see Rhett’s fingers gripping him, tangled in the olive green of his jacket. He’d expect to hear Rhett say something like ‘I’ve got you,’ but there’s nothing to draw attention to what’s happening between them aside from the hand gripping tight at his waist.

The doors of the car open, and as many people leave file back in and when the doors shut again and the train kicks into motion, it’s just as full as it had been before they’d stopped. But all that Link’s aware of is that Rhett’s hand is still there at his waist when the jolt of the train’s motion rocks his body back into Rhett’s, bumps his ass back against Rhett’s groin. When the natural sway of the momentum would bring some distance between them again, Rhett’s hand grips his waist tighter and doesn’t let their bodies part. Link can feel Rhett’s big hand rub away from his side and up under his jacket, sweaty palm dragging as he gropes over his belly through that red t-shirt. Link’s heart is beating loud and hard in his chest as he starts to let it happen.

It’s easy to be lulled into the false sense of privacy that comes with being packed into a train car quite this tightly, the feeling that even though there are people everywhere, that no one’s going to notice if two people are bumping together intentionally when everyone’s bumping into everyone else without being able to help it. Still, Link’s face flushes as red as his shirt as he moves his hips slow and he thinks subtle, letting the wide hand on his belly guide his swaying motion backwards. Can he deny this later, if he needs to? He doesn’t know, but he’s rapidly finding that he doesn’t care.

When the train stops again, Rhett leans so hard and heavy into Link’s space that it’s a wonder the man doesn’t buckle, that the poor soul in front of them hasn’t spoken up to complain. Link is absolutely certain that Rhett is hard behind him, so aware of the thick, hard press of him through all their layers of denim that it’s hard to catch his breath. His mouth is dry and he tries to lick his lips, but there’s no fix for this level of thirst.

This time when the train lurches into motion, Rhett groans against the back of Link’s neck, soft enough for only him to hear. That big hand rubs over his belly and down along his hip before it lets go, comes up to take the bar, both his hands bracketing both of Link’s now. If Link didn’t always feel small and eclipsed by Rhett, then he definitely did now.

“...this is us,” Rhett rumbles against Link’s ear, letting go of the bar as the train slows and stops, briefly grabbing him by the hip once more, like he doesn’t trust him not to topple over. Maybe it’s right to expect he’s unsteady on his feet, because it seems as though he’s a little slow on the uptake, like his brain is working half-speed, bogged down beneath the weight of his desire.

“Huh?” he asks before he catches on, figures out that this is their stop. Link barely remembers the details of the short walk to the museum for all the time he spends wondering how obvious it is that he’s walking through Manhattan with an erection straining the front of his jeans. He’s steadfastly refusing to look over at Rhett, even though he desperately wants to see if he’s as affected as he is. He’s panicking, trying to think of a good reason to bail on the museum. God, why was it  _this_ museum? After that train ride, Link’s not sure he can handle going through a museum quite that erotic. He’s trying and failing to think of any alternate ideas to suggest to Rhett instead, but it’s like he doesn’t have two spare brain cells to rub together. There’s got to be something else on this side of town that they’d wanted to see, but right now all he can think about is how the friction of his jeans feels through his MeUndies while he walks with Rhett towards the Museum of Sex.

They come in the wrong way, through the store rather than the museum entrance, and that’s unfortunate or fortunate depending on how you look at it. For Link, it’s a bit of both -- what’s for sale doing nothing to help him calm back down, but as they make their way past rows of brightly colored vibrating toys and mostly black rope and leather pieces, Link catches sight of the restroom sign. Maybe if he can’t make it through the museum, he could run down there and _take care of the situation_ and come back to join Rhett upstairs.

After they’ve made it through the line and paid for their tickets, Rhett’s following Link up the stairs to the first floor exhibit. So far not so good, because he’s already wondering if he can bail to the bathroom before they get started looking around, but with Rhett blocking him from just going back down the stairs he has to wait at least until he gets upstairs to come back down, or else he’d have to pass Rhett on the narrow stairwell. There’s no chance to back out just yet.

Once he’s at the top, he takes a deep breath and decides to try and give it a chance. It’s not easy, though there are moments where he has these fleeting thoughts that maybe he’s going to be able to be okay. Not all of the exhibits are arousing, some are just genuinely interesting, and he’s trying to focus on that, trying to read the placards alongside the vintage condom dispensers and various other things on display. Unfortunately, there’s more than enough that catches his attention and imagination on the first wall between the chastity belt and the monkey rocker alone, but as they round around to the other side of the room, Rhett always just at his heels, he has a harder and harder time focusing as they file by the teal Makita Fuckzall and the “Pleasure Menu” from The New Sagebrush Brothel in Carson City, Nevada.

 “I wonder what comes with the Salt & Pepper Party,” Rhett reads off of the Entree menu. Reads it from so close behind Link that he can practically feel his breath heat the cool sweat in his short salt and pepper hair.

“Looks like anything you’d like,” Link says without thinking, talking just to answer him, running on autopilot because his brain is running at maximum capacity just keeping him from bolting from the room here and now.

“I could go for one, with a Full French and a Mirror Room on the side… I wonder if they have You Pick 2’s like at Panera…”

Link is struggling to function and Rhett’s making jokes, enjoying watching Link squirm. Link stares back at Rhett over his shoulder dumbly, like he’s having a hard time making what he’d said compute.

“Like a half of two entrees and a side for the price of an entree and a side, mix it up a little bit… maybe that’s what the Half and Half is, and the Combo Half and Half. Like a ‘meal deal.’”

Link finally laughs because he feels like he has to, because it feels really obvious that he isn’t, and when he does it sounds forced, even to him. He knows Rhett doesn’t buy it, that he can tell the difference between his real and fake laughter, even on a bad day. It feels like there’s no way to get out of this unscathed.

 By the time they make it to the second floor, Link’s not absorbing a damn thing. It doesn’t help that this floor is the Sex Lives of Animals exhibit, and that it’s mostly text. He’s stood reading the same damn paragraph about Bonobos for five minutes without comprehending a single word of it. Finally, he gives up trying to get anything out of it and decides to just fake it. He’s moving through the room, focused instead on trying to keep a believable pace, keeping his eye on Rhett a few panels ahead of him and trying to trail along and ignore the backdrop of animal mating noises the museum’s pumping into the space through the sound system. He could slip away now if he wanted to, could go on downstairs, could take care of the situation and be back up before Rhett’s done looking upstairs, if he’s fast. But he doesn’t leave. He doesn’t know what keeps him there, but he can’t help the wild thought that maybe he can hang in there long enough to make it back out into the too warm for October night, that the next thing on their agenda will be less arousing. 

The upstairs level is art, an exhibit focusing on the female gaze, and Link has this thought that maybe it won’t be that bad. If it’s just art, it won’t be distracting maybe, like he’ll be able to try and appreciate it for the work that went into it and focus less on the eroticism of it, lose himself in the details and ignore the mounting tension between himself and Rhett.

No such luck comes to Link, because they’d been in the wide white gallery space less than a minute when Link spotted a photography set where the male gaze is turned on its head, where instead of women as the subject and the assumed male as the viewer, there are men in erotic poses with the supposed female viewer in mind. Which is all well and good, except where there’s a portrait of a slender, athletic man balanced on his shoulders with his legs stretched in the air above him like a centerfold, wearing only a black fishnet mesh body stocking that goes from his toes to his shoulders. The way it clings to the man’s strong thighs, skims his belly, stretches over his chest is a god damn sin. He can’t help thinking about Rhett and how those too-long legs might look filling out a stocking like that.

As if sensing Link’s attention shifting away from the statue of a woman masturbating in a chair wearing an I Love NY shirt towards the wall to the right, Rhett follows him to the display and when Link turns, finally beyond the outer limit of what he can tolerate, Rhett’s _right there_. Link almost collides with him in his haste to escape the gallery. 

“I’ll be right back... I gotta, uh, gotta take a leak,” it’s transparent as hell and he knows it, but at this point there’s nothing he can do. He’s got to get out of the gallery  _now_ because he can’t handle one more second of looking at erotic art with Rhett’s undivided attention trained on him at every turn.

Link makes it down the stairs as fast as he’s able to, practically falling over himself to get away from the gallery. It’s a long walk down the corridor from the museum through the gift shop and down the stairs to the basement where the restroom is. The basement is half stone walled, half painted black and dimly lit, not unlike images that might come to mind when someone says _dungeon_ , and before Link finds the sign for the bathrooms he sees a long wall of glass displays showcasing a variety of leather body harnesses. He vaguely recalls seeing something about a leather exhibit, but right now he can’t conjure any more details to his mind. He’s just caught there for a moment, attention completely drawn into one white leather harness with the straps arranged like stars, and he’s thinking about the harness he’d worn on the show and the way Rhett had looked at him while he’d had it on, with hunger.

Link turns from the exhibit and sees the restroom sign indicating there wasn’t a men’s and women’s room, that anyone was free to use any restroom, which didn’t make sense to him until, closer, he saw a number of single stalls scattered around the small alcoved area. He slips inside the closest one to him and shuts the door behind him, forgetting to lock it in his haste. He looks all around the room. It’s big for a bathroom, unnecessarily so, and brick walled on three sides with the door a solid black. It’s dirty in the kind of way that makes him real disinclined to touch anything, normally, but right now he couldn’t care less.

He’s rushing to get his pants undone with shaky hands and he’s barely made any headway when he hears a knock at the door. He hasn’t had a chance to answer the knock before the doorknob is turning and Link panics, folding his big hands in front of his half undone fly as he calls something that should sound more like ‘occupied!’ but comes out in a garbled squeak. 

Rhett comes barging through the door without waiting for permission to enter, and he’s got the door locked behind him before Link can comprehend what’s happening. He tries and fails to speak a few times, mouth hanging open in shock. Everything that happens next happens fast, without Link quite able to follow it. All he knows is Rhett’s here and he’s staring at him the way he sometimes does, except the intensity is cranked to eleven, those pale eyes boring straight through him like he’s got the intent to see through all of what he doesn’t ever say. It feels like it lasts longer than it does, this hanging pause between the lock clicking into place and the moment Rhett shoves Link back against the rough stone wall of the single stall, when the reality is that it can’t be more than a few seconds.

The instant Rhett’s on him, Link stops trying to hide himself behind his hands. They’re too busy grabbing for Rhett anywhere he can reach him, curling up in the soft cream and blue of that cactus sweater to haul him closer.

Rhett’s wanted to touch him for so long that he hardly knows where to start now that he’s got the opportunity to, diving in to caress touch-hungry palms down the long line of Link’s arms through his jacket, shoving it back off one shoulder and letting his hands roam down his chest. It’s when a broken moan escapes Link’s parted lips that Rhett kisses him _hard_ , swallows that sound down as their bodies negotiate the space between them.

The kiss is passionate and frantic, like one or both of them is afraid this is all they’ll get. That the second they leave this dingy bathroom stall, everything will snap back into place and this won’t be something that’s available to them. Every time it feels like Rhett’s pulling away, Link’s chasing his mouth, trying to work a hand up between them to grab a hold of him, to keep him close.

Rhett wants anything he can get, everything Link will let him have. If Link asked him, he’d give him all he had to give and more. One hand is rubbing low over Link’s chest, down along his ribs and lower to where his jeans are open, gapped in the front where they’re straining still over his erection. That big hand takes a heavy pass over the bulge he finds there before trying to fit on inside, to palm him through his underwear.

“Oh, fuck,” Link breathes, pulling away from Rhett’s mouth for air, head falling back against the dirty stone wall. He starts like he’d been hit by a jolt of electricity when Rhett’s big hand fishes inside his black MeUndies and curls sweaty around his cock, gives a firm, slow stroke. The sounds that escape him then are surreal, sound like he’s losing his everloving mind.

“I wanna fuck,” Link blurts aloud, filthy as their surroundings, “--right here, right now.” His eyes are shining with lust, face flushed with just how badly he needs this. It doesn’t matter to him that they’d only just kissed, that Rhett’s just barely got a hand down the front of his pants, that they haven’t got anything they’d need to do it, he just needs what he needs. 

Link’s words rock Rhett to his core and he’s so fucking tempted to give, but it’s not realistic. He doesn’t have anything they’d need, and he can’t imagine that Link does either. He aches with the desire to bend heaven and earth to make it happen, racking his brain to find some way to give him what he’s asking for because it feels like thirty years spent building to this moment. But it’s not feasible, not something they can pull off in this moment.

“We don’t have anything…” Rhett counters, hand moving in a slow, testing stroke over the length of Link’s cock, head tipped to look down between them as he works him out of his boxer briefs and gets a look at him in the dim light of the bathroom. His cock looks so fucking good in his hand, like it had been made just for him.

“Please,” Link begs, fingers twisted desperately in his sweater, not just to keep him close but to keep himself steady, needing the wall and the grip he’s got on him for support. His breath comes shuddering as Rhett works him over with steady slow strokes, slower than he’d like it, slower than he needs, and he wets his lips with his tongue and tries to pull Rhett’s attention back up to his face, tries to win the  _yes_ he’s desperate for.

“Do you have lube?” Rhett asks, thoughts cast briefly to the bottles on bottles of it that he knows are upstairs on display in the gift shop. If Link has some, there’s no way in hell he’s going to say no.

“No, but I don’t care,” Link pushes, so horny he’s stupid. Rhett responds with a dubious ‘nuh-uh’ sound as Link starts scrambling to get a hand down the front of his jeans, like he thinks he can convince Rhett to go on ahead without a damn thing to ease the way if only he’s enough of a tease. Rhett almost wishes that were the case, because the thought of taking Link the way he wants to be taken in a dirty public bathroom is hotter than it has any right to be. 

“Well, I do,” Rhett says and tries to distract him with his mouth again, to dampen the frantic need with the weight of his body holding him pinned to the wall, with the slow pace he’s keeping with that one big hand, like he can reset this wildness in Link and bring him back from the edge.

Link whimpers in the kiss, squirms between Rhett and the stone wall like he’s trying to flip the script. Link manages a hand down the front of his pants and Rhett jolts as Link’s long fingers wrap around the thickness of him, jerking harder and faster than he can handle. He pulls from the kiss, lips parted as he takes a shaky breath and meets Link’s eyes and stammers, “Slow down…” 

Link doesn’t want to but he does, eases up, gives a long slow stroke not unlike the way Rhett’s touching him and is rewarded with a heavy-lidded blink and slack-jawed moan fed to him in the next kiss that’s pressed to his mouth.

“...fuck me, Rhett…” Link whimpers the next time they part, still absolutely careless to the fact that it’s impossible.

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you,” Rhett growls low as he nuzzles in against Link’s neck and jaw. He’s still jerking him off, his hand picking up the pace as he figures out that Link had been touching him the way _he_ liked it, and with the increase in speed he feels Link starting slowly to shake apart.

“--when we get back to the hotel, I’m gonna fucking tear you in half.”

Link moans so loud and so sharp that they’re in danger suddenly of being overheard, what with the fact that the walls don’t go all the way to the ceilings of the room around them, leaves an open gap where sound carries easy. Rhett’s free hand claps over Link’s mouth to silence him and he snaps, voice hushed, “Hush up or we’re gonna get thrown out. Understand?”

Link’s blue eyes are round and wet as he nods his understanding, and Rhett lets up with his hand only to find out that it was a mistake when Link whimpers helplessly the second his mouth is free. He loses that privilege then, earns Rhett’s big hand clapped tight over his mouth and jaw to seal as much sound in as he possibly can.

“I wonder if they sell gags in the gift shop… you clearly need one,” he breathes in the space between them, nose nudging his ear as he carries on jerking him off. He can feel Link’s hand, his own cock drag over his knuckles as the both of them hurry to jerk the other off before they end up caught.

Link moans muffled, eyes slipping closed at the thought of it Rhett gagging him in their hotel room. At the thought of Rhett buying a gag specifically for him from the store upstairs where anyone looking could guess what they were planning.

“...I’m gonna buy you one of those leather harnesses they’ve got. Get you a collar. Lead you around on a fucking leash,” Rhett’s just spewing filth against Link’s skin, all the dirty thoughts he’s had all night, all these past years spilling out between them now.

Link’s whimpering at the thought, cock twitching in Rhett’s hand. He’s not going to survive this. It feels like he can’t breathe, like his heart is going to beat out of his chest, like he’s going to hyperventilate from how badly he needs to come. It feels like he’s been on the edge all night, since they’d gotten on the train to head downtown, but reality is that this is a long game they’ve played. A game that’s spanned months, years, longer. This dance of desire they just kept side stepping till, finally, they’d come toe to toe and found themselves unable to do anything but look it head on.

“...Gonna get those gold handcuffs… cuff you to the bed, fuck your brains out…” Rhett’s babbling and Link’s twisting between his body and the wall, too much energy and need pent up in him to be still.

“...keep you still so you have to just take what I give you,” Rhett’s talking himself off too, giving voice to the ideas bringing him that much closer with every word of it.

Link comes first in messy spurts that smear the ribbed hem of that cactus sweater, and he comes breathing hard and fast and damn near thrashing, losing all control of the rhythm he’d been working Rhett over with. Rhett groans and carries him through, strokes him till the sounds he makes make it clear he’s on the other side of it, that more is _too much_. Then he shifts his focus, wraps his hand around Link’s around him and guides him to finish, wants to feel Link’s hand on his cock when he comes.

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathes against Link’s mouth as he kisses him fretfully, pulling back just as fast, shoulders starting to hunch forward as he gets close. He brings his free hand up, braces himself against the wall on his forearm, fingers stroking through Link’s messy graying hair.

Rhett’s shaking when his orgasm hits him hard, tries to push as much of his fist against his open mouth as he can to quiet himself down. Link stares up at him, eyes wide and drinking it in, letting Rhett’s hand guide him through the last slow strokes that tip him over the edge.

They’ve neither of them begun to come down when there’s a loud _knock knock knock_ on the door, and their eyes lock as they listen. Rhett’s voice cracks and breaks, obvious, when he calls, “I’m coming!”

The humor isn’t lost on either of them, but right now they’re both so focused on each other and, now, how they’re going to get out without getting thrown out that neither of them laugh. Barely ten seconds later, Rhett’s raking his clean hand through his hair to try and fix some of the damage that had been down and looks down between them, taking stock of the situation. 

Rhett goes for a wad of toilet paper and together they awkwardly try their best to clean up. Rhett’s sweater is a lost cause with the big smear of cum on the hem. It needs a wash, that’s all there is for it.

“I’ll slip out and go wash my hands, then head up… lock the door after I go, give it a minute, maybe whoever’s there will find another stall… then you follow me up…”

“Wait,” Link whispers as Rhett starts to move back to tuck himself back into his pants and zip himself up. “...where’re you going?”

“Up the gift shop to get supplies.”

**Author's Note:**

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